


It's a match

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dick Pics, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Humor, Jonerys, Modern Era, Tinder, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: When Jon matches with Daenerys on Tinder, everything is perfect. So why is she suddenly ghosting him? A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	It's a match

..

It was in the early morning when Jon realised he had matched.

Sleep was still clinging onto his eyes as he let go of the toothbrush in his mouth, bit down on the plastic shaft with his teeth, and started tapping away at his phone. _ Daenerys_. That was her name. As he flipped through her photos, he reminded himself of who she was:

27 years old. Young and blonde. Her pictures were a mix of sexy, like the bikini shot on the beach, cute, like the obvious Snapchat-filter with the dog-ears, and annoying, like the unnecessary group-shot that reduced her face to a pixel.

_ But she’s hot, _ Jon decided as his finger hesitated on the main photo of her; she was dressed in a black bikini top and ripped denim shorts, her face facing the camera whilst her violet eyes were glancing at something to her right. _ I’d definitely date her. _

Her ‘About me’ section was as if ripped out of a ‘How to make yourself interesting on Tinder’-article. It simply said:

> 7 things about me:
> 
> 1\. I’m cute.  
2\. I think you’re cuter.  
3\. I LOVE horror movies.  
4\. Tea > Coffee (this is NOT up for debate!)  
5\. Make me a G&T and I’m yours. Kidding. Not kidding?  
6\. I can count past twenty. No, really, I can!

Jon scratched his nape, his black, curly hair getting caught in his fingers, and he was about to send her a message as a heavy knocking on the bathroom door made him jump.

“Come on!” his flatmate called from the other side, “You’ve been in there for an hour!”

Jon spat the toothpaste into the sink and opened the door, glancing out at Grey.

His friend sent him a tired look. “I also have work, you know,” Grey spoke and trudged past him. He didn’t even bother to ask Jon if he was done - he just turned on the shower as he started undressing.

“Hey, look, I matched,” Jon said and waved his phone at Grey.

His friend gave the picture a short glance before turning back to the shower. “Mh-hmm,” he mumbled disinterested.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Jon asked, still holding out his screen.

“She’s cute, yeah,” Grey replied, not looking. He stepped under the stream and pulled the curtain. “Will you let me shower now?”

Jon grimaced, stepped onto the toilet seat and held his phone over the curtain. “Not until you admit that she’s sexy!” he demanded with a grin.

“You’re a pain in the ass!” Grey said. He flicked some water onto Jon’s screen, making him finally pull the phone away. “Right, fine, she’s good looking, is that what you want to hear? Not like she’s going to date you.”

“Why wouldn’t she? We matched,” Jon said.

“Yeah, and then in a week or so, you’ll say something stupid, and it’s bye-bye to your girl,” Grey reminded him.

Jon wrinkled his nose as he walked back to his bedroom, his eyes glued to the screen. _ As if I’ll do something stupid, _ he thought.

* * *

..

* * *

“She is _ perfect._”

At lunchtime, Jon settled in the breakroom at work. He leaned his chin onto the table as he watched his colleagues eat, his own stomach full on Daenerys.

He knew he was acting like a lovesick puppy, but he did not care - he was texting her morning, afternoon, and night. Even at work, his thumbs moved swiftly beneath his desk. In fact, he had gotten so good at hiding it that not even the floor manager noticed when he did his round. All he saw was Jon being _ very _ fascinated with the user manual which he kept nearby for cover.

“Good job, Jon, good job,” the guy spoke, even patting his shoulder on the way past.

Grey, however, looked less impressed. “What makes her so perfect?” he asked, eating his sandwich. Sitting next to him was Tormund, their northern colleague, as well as Brienne, his almost-but-not-really girlfriend. She was poking around a bowl of soup, her nose wrinkled.

“Yeah, Jon, I am with Grey here - it takes more than a week to fall in love,” she said.

Tormund leaned close to her. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Jon sighed and pulled out his phone, scrolling through their many texts. There was friendly banter, and memes, and, of course, sexual innuendo which seemed so cheeky late at night but, in the light of day, just came off as silly and almost _ teenagey. _ Yet, he couldn’t stop, and even now his thumbs trembled lightly as if they missed being pressed to the screen, putting together another message. “We just seem to agree on _ everything. _ Like, we want the same things in life-”

“Like what?” Grey asked.

“Like, a house full of dogs,” Jon spoke, thinking of his own husky at home, Ghost. When he sent her a photo, she said, _ I want to marry your dog. _ It was almost as good as it got. “And we both like Friends-”

“Everyone likes Friends!”

“-and we both like rock music, and drinking, and we both want to go skiing in Switzerland, and - oh, yeah, we both did this quiz, and apparently I’m like Hermione, and she’s like Harry Potter, which is perfect.”

His colleagues exchanged glances. “Uh, why’s that perfect?” Brienne asked.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Biggest couple on screen?”

“They don’t end up together,” Grey pointed out. “Man, did you even read the books?”

“Whatever,” Jon mumbled as he slipped down the seat of his chair, his fingers putting together another text. “You’re all just _ jealous. _”

* * *

..

* * *

During week three, their flirting intensified.

Jon found himself squirming in bed Sunday evening as he tried to come up with a good pick-up line. Daenerys had mentioned that she enjoyed dad jokes, so he’d searched the internet for the best ones, but half of them were boring, and the other half borderline _ creepy. _

“A man spends nine months trying to get out,” Jon read out aloud, “and then the rest of his life trying to get in.”

“That’s _ gross,_” Grey spoke, peeking up from the floor.

Jon grimaced and scrolled to the next joke. “I know, there are no good ones.”

When Jon first matched with Daenerys, he never imagined he would be spending every waking moment trying to come up with ways to impress her. Sure, Tinder was made for putting up a cool facade. That’s why half his photos were of him in leather jackets looking cool, the other half of him doing cool-but-also-fun stuff like hanging with monkeys in Thailand or scuba diving in Australia. Still, strangely, the Jon Daenerys seemed attracted to was the slightly funny, odd side of him.

As such, she’d taken a particular liking to a photo of him dressed as Cinderella for Halloween, as well as the selfie he took after dropping a hot chocolate down his new, white suit. _ I love a guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously, _ she’d said, but it had left Jon puzzled; what kind of girl doesn’t want a cool guy?

Jon scrolled, reading out another joke: “A woman goes to surprise her husband and buys some crotchless lingerie-”

“Oh boy,” Grey groaned, “I told you you’re doomed.”

“Well, could you _ try _ to help me?” Jon asked, his voice exasperated. “You hang in here all day, stealing the best wifi signal, and then you can’t even support your mate?”

“Wow, that’s a heavy accusation.” Grey flipped over and then pushed himself up to sit, his face resting on the edge of Jon’s bed. He watched his friend with furrowed brows. “I think you should just-”

“Yes?”

“Just…” Grey shrugged.

Jon leaned closer, his eyes patient as he waited for his friends’ words of wisdom.

Feeling under pressure, Grey sighed as he continued: “Just… be _ yourself_.”

Jon watched him for a few seconds. Then, he shook his head. “That’s rubbish advice,” he said, turning back to his screen with a pout. “No man has ever gotten a date by being himself.”

“That’s not true,” Grey protested. “Although, in your instance, it might.”

Jon grimaced. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told you from the start - you’re always head over heels in love, and then you have a weak moment. You do something _ stupid. _ And then it’s back to square one.”

“Not with this one,” Jon said, sniffing through his nose. “Daenerys is the real deal.”

“Sure she is,” Grey said, laying back down on the floor as he continued his mobile game. “Sure she is…”

Jon just rolled his eyes, but he didn’t offer Grey a response. Instead, he settled on a joke as he wrote Daenerys back.

* * *

..

* * *

From then on, everything went downhill.

Jon wasn’t sure when he got the idea, but he knew he was drunk. Friday night, as his head was buzzing with vodka, he was feeling particularly good about the direction his relationship was taking.

_ Before you know it, we’ll be inviting people to our wedding, _ he thought, slowly pushing his way through the dancing crowd to the loo. He was hot, and he was sweaty, his shirt sticking to his body as he freed himself from the dancers. Luckily, the toilet gave him some of the relief he needed - the stone walls seemed to cling onto a coolness which bathed his sticky face the moment he stepped inside, and he stumbled to a stall, taking a much needed piss as he glanced at the ceiling above.

Everything was swirling. The lights doubled. His mind slipped to Daenerys.

They had been flirting non-stop. Daenerys kept making remarks about how lonely she felt at times, needing someone at her side. Jon replied with his own tales of loneliness, especially when it came to his cold, sad, double-bed. It was a constant back and forth - at times, she would play along, teasing him mercilessly. Other times, she would shy away from his sexual innuendos, the innocence seemingly kicking in.

_ But last night, she sent me a sexy pic, _ Jon thought, and he fumbled to get his phone out as he glanced upon it again:

Daenerys, wearing lingerie only, the dark lace teasingly slipping across her nude back as she looked over her shoulder at him, her lips tucked into a seductive smile. Her buttocks were mostly bare, the g-string not leaving much to the imagination.

When she first sent it, it had made him hot and bothered. He didn’t even reply for an hour, just taking in the picture as his hand worked his body. But now, he felt ready to return the favour, and he did it the only way he knew how; with a snap of his dick.

To him, it was the perfect photo; as it laid in his hand, it looked just right, and he angled his phone to make sure he got the shadows _ just perfect_. Like a work of art.

He didn’t even think any more about it once it was sent, he just trudged out of the stall to the bar, ordering another cocktail. _ She is sure to like it, _ he thought, sipping rum and coke with a smirk. _ She is sure to love it. _

* * *

..

* * *

Jon was _ miserable. _

When he brushed his teeth, he thought of her. When he sat at work, he thought of her. When he ate his lunch, he thought of her. When he laid in bed, he thought of her.

_ But it seems she doesn’t think of me, _ Jon thought, scrolling through the pages of messages. They were all from him to her, not a single reply coming his way since he sent the dick-pic. _ It seems Grey was right - I am always sure to mess things up. _

His friend, sensing how gloomy he was, had tried to be especially nice. Sunday morning, he cooked them breakfast. Monday, he treated him to lunch at KFC. Tuesday evening, he sat through the Kill Bill movies, cringing his way through every action scene as Jon watched intensely. Wednesday, he cooked them dinner (“It’s steak, Jon. You like steak, right?”). And Thursday, he took him to the pub, letting him have pint after pint on him.

But nothing seemed to quicken Jon’s heart the way a text from Daenerys had. So he spent his Friday afternoon in bed, the phone pressed to his chest as he stared at the ceiling, wondering when he became a terrible human being.

_ She is ghosting me, _ Jon thought, feeling his chest clench at the thought. _ She thinks I’m gross, so now she’s doing her best to avoid me. Before I know it, she’ll block me. Then it’ll be a restraining order. Soon, I’ll be in some documentary, talking about how one dick-pic ruined my career and love life for good. _ He flipped over, burying his face in his pillow as he grumbled:

“And I only have myself to blame.”

It was then that his screen lit up, and as he glanced upon the message, he felt his heartbeat quicken once more:

* * *

..

* * *

Jon was sweating.

He had been waiting for more than half an hour, and he was getting jittery. Squirming on the barstool, he ordered another rum and coke, pulling at his collar as he glanced around. _ Where is she? _ he thought. _ Is she even coming? _

Jon had tried to make an effort in the short time she’d given him. He had dragged wax through his messy curls, slicking them back, and he had put on tight jeans and a nice shirt under his leather jacket, almost appearing _ approachable, _ as his friend would put it. He wanted to stick to the line of sexy, but nice. A bad boy you could present to your parents. _ Someone who doesn’t send dick-pics, _ he thought to himself as he glanced around, trying to spot Daenerys.

“How ‘bout a gin and tonic?” someone asked.

As Jon glanced to his right, his eyes widened; there she sat, Daenerys, with her perfect body in a perfect golden dress, her violet eyes glancing on him with friendliness. In fact, there was not a shred of disgust in her face, and it calmed him and made him face her although his heartbeat quickened at once.

“Daenerys,” he greeted, “I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”

“Well, you sure had no problem showing plenty of yourself,” she replied, making him blush. She waved for the bartender as she ordered her drink, then smiled back at him. “Another for you?” she asked, gesturing at his glass.

Jon just nodded his head, his cheeks bright red.

As they were both seated with a drink, he finally worked up the courage to say: “I’m sorry.”

Daenerys looked at him with quirked brows. “For the pic?” As he nodded, she snorted: “Don’t be. I wasn’t put off by it.”

Jon blinked at her in surprise. “You weren’t?” He leaned onto the counter, trying to take in her expression, but he saw no glimmer of jest in her eyes. “Then why did you ignore me?”

This time, Daenerys was the one to blush. She fiddled with her glass as she seemed to search for the right words to speak. “I have a friend,” she finally said, and Jon pursed his lips:

“_Boyfriend?_” he asked saddened, but she shook her head.

“Just a friend,” she assured him, “a _ girl _ friend. Missandei’s her name. We’ve been close since primary school. There is no one I trust more, only…” She didn’t finish. She sipped her drink and licked her lips. “This gin is good!”

Jon pressed on: “Only?” and he leaned closer, intensely watching her as she blushed even more.

“Well, I’ve not always had the best judgement when it comes to guys,” she admitted shyly, “so when I downloaded Tinder, she said she’d help me screen any potential dates.” She looked him in the eyes, her brows quirked, but Jon still didn’t catch on.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked.

“Oh Jon,” she sighed. She swirled the gin around her glass, watching the liquid bounce up the sides. “I enjoyed your flirting, I really did. But Missandei? Well, she thought you were a bit _ crass _ at times.”

“Wait, hold on-” Jon paused, holding up his hand to make her stop speaking for a moment. “Did your friend read _ all _of our texts?”

“Not _ all _ of them,” Daenerys squirmed, avoiding his gaze. “Just… _ most._”

“And did she see-” Jon didn’t even have to finish his sentence. As Daenerys looked him in the eyes, his face paled. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Daenerys nodded, a shy smile on her lips. “She told me - don’t bother with a fuckboy. Any man who sends pics of his dick is only after one thing.”

“But that’s not true,” Jon protested hurriedly.

“It does not matter,” Daenerys said, sipping her gin as she watched him from the corners of her eyes. “I tried to cut you out. I really did. But-” She paused, putting her drink back down as she sighed, “but I _ couldn’t. _ I just kept thinking of you - of all your sweet jokes, and all the lovely chats we had.” She turned in her seat to face him, and Jon did the same.

He instinctively reached out to grab at her hand, and she let him, his fingertips brushing across her soft knuckles. “I really like you,” Jon admitted. “Like, really, _ really _ like you.”

Daenerys smiled and squeezed his hand. “That is funny,” she said, “because I think I really like you.”

“So, does this mean we can try again?” Jon asked. “Maybe outside the app?”

“No dick-pics?” Daenerys smiled.

Jon flushed, but he too smiled as he promised: “No dick-pics.”

As the light in the bar dimmed, they held each other’s hands as they slipped onto the dancefloor, slowly swaying to the music, and looking into Daenerys eyes, Jon thought, _ This is a match. This is a perfect match. And no one can tell me differently._

_.._

**Author's Note:**

> Lesson of the day: don't send dick pics. That's it, folks!
> 
> Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the art! I really loved trying my hands at a "modern love story", and the drawings definitely inspired me. Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
